Chapter Eleven
Bea's little fingers braided Dolly's hair over and over. Braided, then combed out. Braided, then combed. The doll's hair broke off easily from age, but also from being brushed again and again. Braided again and again. Ever since Mommy had taught Bea to braid.
She smoothed her own hair. Then Dolly's. Then hers again.
Comfy in her car seat, Bea hummed and swayed her head with the melody. The car was quiet and warm, with a window partway open. Licking her thumb, she washed Dolly's dirty face, just as Mommy did her own. One doll eye stuck open, the other eye blinked. Bea held up the doll to admire and smiled. Then she hugged Dolly, sighed, and settled in to wait for Mommy.
Almost asleep—
Screech!
Bea jumped and looked at Dolly, then at the store front. No Mommy. She c
